We talked Marilyn into a test drive, and as I suspected, she liked it. It handled like a car, not a typical van, and she liked that. Then I had the sales rep show us one of their fancier Dodge Grand Caravan models with all the whistles and bells. By that point the guy was practically drooling. I started signing papers and the asshole damn near came in his pants.
From there we drove over to Tusker and Tessa’s, where Tessa was being terrorized by our son. Bucky was now almost six years old. He was off at school in the first grade! With two pregnant women in the room with me, I was suffering from estrogen overload. Tessa was as excited as Marilyn about our having twins. I wondered how happy she would be when we called on ‘Aunt Tessa’ and ‘Uncle Tusker’ for baby-sitting duties.
And, slowly, life began getting back to normal. I wasn’t sure how normal normal was going to be, what with twin girls coming into the picture, but my family’s disaster began receding from my thoughts. We were no longer in the papers, I could go somewhere with Marilyn or Charlie without worries about anybody pointing at me and whispering, I didn’t have to worry about reporters tracking me down. Mind you, the Buckman family was generally in the shitter. My parents were now divorced, Mom blamed me for everything, and Suzie hadn’t talked to me since the shooting. She had sent me a letter apologizing for causing all the trouble (by inviting me to her graduation, I guess) and stating that she was taking a job at the Mayo Clinic, and asking that I not chase after her. Dad? Who knew! I had killed a son of his and he hadn’t talked to me other than through lawyers. What a miserable clusterfuck!
The Tusk’s second child was also a son, and he was born on Friday, April 20, 1984. I remember that day because I ended up watching over Bucky for a few hours. He was home from school because it was a teacher’s conference day, and right after lunch I got a call at the office from Tusker. Tessa was having contractions, none of their parents could be reached, Marilyn couldn’t be reached (out grocery shopping), and could I come over and watch Bucky until somebody else got there? I just laughed and agreed, and then left the office. From Hereford to their house was less than fifteen minutes.
It was Bucky who opened the door for me when I walked up their walkway; he must have been watching for me out the living room window. “Hi, Uncle Carl! Mom says you’re going to stay here until Nana and Papa get here!”
“So I’m told. How you doing, Bucky?”
“I’m okay.”
“Where’s your Mommy and Daddy?” The Tusk’s cars were both out in the driveway, so they were still here.
“They’re upstairs. They said they have to go out and I have to stay here with you. Nana and Papa are coming over, too.” He didn’t seem overly concerned. I wondered how much he understood about what was happening. I was about the same age as he was when Suzie was born, but that hadn’t been good. My mother had gone into labor in the middle of the night, after Hamilton and I were asleep, and the next morning I woke to find the next door neighbor watching us and our parents gone. I was only five-and-a-half and got scared and started crying. Bucky seemed a whole lot calmer, or maybe it was simply because he was awake to get used to it.
“That’s cool. We’ll just goof off until your Nana and Papa show up.” I wasn’t sure which set of grandparents were Nana and Papa, but I had met both and Bucky would be in good shape.
I heard a clatter up the stairs, and Bucky’s parents came down the stairs, Tessa in the lead, groaning and waddling, with Tusker behind her carrying a small suitcase. He was a lot calmer with this child than he was with the last one! He saw me and smiled. “Great! Thanks a bunch, man!”
“It’s cool, guys. Bucky and I are just going to hang out. We’ll drink whiskey, play poker, watch dirty movies, and smoke some cigars. You know, guy stuff.”
“Yeah, guy stuff!” chimed in Bucky.
Tusker grinned at this. Tessa was less amused. “Guy stuff! I hate you, Carl.” She turned to Tusker and said, “I hate you, too. I hate all men. You are never going to touch me again!” After another groan, Tessa headed for the door.
Tusker just grinned at me. “Didn’t she say that once before?” I asked him lowly.
“I heard that! This time I mean it!” she said loudly.
“What’s a dirty movie, Uncle Carl?” asked Bucky. He was way too smart for my good.
“It’s a movie about pigs at a farm. Forget about it,” I answered.
“I hate men!” repeated Tessa as she headed out the door. Tusker just laughed and shook his head and followed his wife outside. Bucky and I waved good-bye through the picture window.
Okay, we didn’t drink whiskey, play poker, watch dirty movies, or smoke cigars. We had milk and chocolate chip cookies and played War with a pack of cards Bucky found. Nana and Papa turned out to be Tessa’s parents, who got the message first and came over to rescue their grandson. Bucky proudly announced we were doing ‘guy stuff’, which amused his grandparents considerably. They took over and I headed home, to tell Marilyn the good news.
We attended Carter Henry’s (he was named after both grandfathers) christening at St. Paul’s, which was Tessa’s church from when we were kids. That was very uncomfortable, since both my parents were there, though sitting in separate pews. My father started to cry when he saw us with Charlie, and Marilyn so visibly pregnant. He sat there staring at us as we walked down the aisle. Marilyn got very nervous, and picked up Charlie in her arms, and held him tightly, while staying behind me. She wasn’t letting them get anywhere near her family! Thankfully, Mom hates ‘creating a scene’ so she didn’t have another meltdown there in the church. I had heard from John Steiner that she was seeing a psychiatrist on a regular basis now, and taking medication.
One other curious thing occurred in April. I became a philanthropist! It all came about when I was doing my taxes, which I actually had to sign off on every quarter. Actually, I had an accountant from Jake’s old firm do them for me, since at my income level, the last thing I needed to do was fuck up my taxes. He was at the office reviewing them with me when he commented that I could afford to significantly raise my level of charitable contribution, especially considering the tax advantages of doing so. When I asked how much he thought I could give, he gave it a little thought, and then commented, “Well, a hundred thousand would be well within the range, probably more.”
I sat back, stunned. A hundred Gs? That was almost as much as I made in my best year on my first go around. It wasn’t like I was being a cheapskate, I gave the local fire department several hundred every year, going back to when Marilyn almost burned down our apartment in Fayetteville, and I always gave to the Red Cross and the United Way, but I was off by several orders of magnitude. I grabbed the phone and called in Jake Senior for confirmation.
He came through the door and asked, “What’s up?”
“Tell him what you just told me,” I told the accountant.
This fellow gave me a confused look, and then turned to Jake and said, “Well, I was just telling Mr. Buckman here that at his income level a significant increase in charitable donation would have a positive impact tax-wise.”
Jake nodded and shrugged his shoulders, and then turned back to me. “Yeah? So?”
“Tell him the amount you told me!” I added.